


The Jump Forward

by felypsa



Category: Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felypsa/pseuds/felypsa
Summary: Rogue's finally willing to test the limits of a temporary mutation-suppressing drug. Remy is happy to volunteer as a test subject.





	The Jump Forward

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot AU with a made-up MacGuffin to enable sexy times. No shame.

Rogue remembered the first time she consciously used Carol’s powers to fly.

When she first absorbed them from the superpowered pilot, it had been such an overwhelming surge of thoughts, memories, emotions, and yes, sheer _power_ itself that she had nearly thrown up. To this day, she could barely remember the encounter, could hardly understand how she’d managed to hold on while the incredibly strong woman bucked and bashed against her. But while that memory was obscured in a haze of jumbled perspectives, Rogue’s memory of her first willful flight was as clear as a lake after a rainstorm.

It had been a simple one—Magneto asked her to fly from one side of the practice room to the other—but she would always remember the jitters in her stomach as she bent her knees slightly and prepared to jump, the doubt bouncing around in her head as she wondered if she was just going to make a fool of herself by landing on her butt a few yards away, and the buzz of excitement in the tips of her fingers as she thought of how amazing it would be if she _could_ pull this off. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d wanted it to work until she was standing there in that crouched position, simultaneously eager to defy gravity and terrified that she couldn’t.

It was all exactly what she was feeling now as she sat on the bed and waited for Remy.

Usually Rogue only showed this much skin when she was in the shower, having grown accustomed to covering herself even when she was alone, even when she decided to pleasure herself. She’d gained nothing from wearing skimpy clothing and gazing longingly at herself in the mirror, wishing she could get away with prancing around in a bikini or even just sprawling in the grass in short denim shorts and a tube top. It almost scared her as she looked down to see the expanse of her exposed legs, shaved to a rare smoothness that added another layer to the feeling of nakedness. Her heart was flip-flopping between pride and anxiety, vanity and insecurity, excitement and panic. 

She looked _good._ She knew she looked good. The green babydoll cupped the round shape of her large breasts in a way that made them pop enticingly, thanks in part to the black lace that outlined them before continuing on as the straps that hung loosely on her bare shoulders. The rest of the garment was see-through, draping over her flat, muscled stomach down to just over the curve of her ass. Her low-rise hipster panties matched the color and covered just enough of her butt that Rogue didn’t feel _completely_ like the kind of woman her mama warned her would only get in trouble. She even went ahead and painted her fingernails _and_ toenails an alternating pastel yellow and seafoam green.

Sure, a lot of that was more for herself than it was for Remy, but even though Rogue had cranked her appearance up to a twelve for this upcoming _activity,_ she still felt the rolling waves of nausea in her gut that whispered that _she was going to fall._ She curled her finely painted nails into her palms, digging into the skin as if that would fight the years of doubt that she was attempting to dismantle in a single night.

She could _do_ this. She wanted this. She _deserved_ this.

And so did Remy.

Rogue had initially been very skeptical of the concoction Dr. McCoy had presented to her a couple of months ago. The description of how he’d developed it seemed so off to her—a mixture of the young mutant Leech’s DNA (willingly given, of course) with the original formula that was responsible for the creation of the Mutant Growth Hormone, but with some tweaking to make sure that the effects would be brief and not addictive. Unlike the street version of the drug, McCoy had gone through the far more ethical process of making sure it was safe to give to human subjects, but as much as Rogue trusted him, she didn’t trust karma not to turn around and go full bitch on her just _because._

But while she had passed on being one of the first mutants to test the medication, she had been shocked to learn that Remy had volunteered to be in the first group. He knew there was a chance that, if the power suppressor worked, it might work _permanently._ Rogue could hardly wrap her mind around what the cocky Cajun would do without his supernatural (and infuriatingly unfair) sense of balance, let alone without his combustive ability that had proven so useful in desperate combat. But when she confronted him about it, she only ran up against that stubborn wall of his, his lackadaisical shield against risk and fear.

“It’s gon’ be fine, _chere._ Remy’s always had Lady Luck lookin’ out for him. Dis test is gonna be a cinch.” He smiled.

Rogue scoffed. “Ya like ta forget that Lady Luck usually abandons you to wrestle with her sister Trouble. I don’t think she likes ya as much as you brag about, Cajun.” Translation (if Rogue were capable of expressing her emotions in a healthy, honest way): _I’m worried this will go horribly wrong for you, why can’t you see that?_

In response, though, Remy reached up to her face, lightly grasping her chin with his gloved hand and tilting it up toward him. (Funny how only a year ago, she would have instantly batted away such an attempt at close contact, but now she welcomed the intimacy, even though it made her heart seize with nervousness as she braced herself for whatever he was going to say.) She’d been forced to stare deeply into those hypnotic, devilish red eyes, and she saw they held nothing but sincere affection. “De first rule of gamblin’ is to always take de risk if de potential gain is wort’ it.” He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “Knowin’ if dis can give you a break from your powers, _chere?_ Dat’s wort’ anything I could put on de table.”

Her heart lurched happily at hearing those words, but Rogue hated how even in moments of simple joy, there was a lingering residue of guilt. She’d never asked for this, but that was the point—Remy gave it willingly anyway. 

It had paid off. Thanks to his tests, Dr. McCoy determined that the drug could, in fact, inhibit mutants from using their abilities for a short amount of time—and just like that, a whole new world of possibilities opened up. It could be used to subdue young mutants whose powers spiraled out of control; it could be used to gain the upper hand against violent mutants who refused to back down; and, in Rogue’s case, it could give her a temporary reprieve from the side effects of her ability that had haunted her every day since that first fateful kiss of death.

Although Beast was confident that there were no addictive properties (aside from the usual caution about overdosing), Rogue was overly careful about not getting attached to the _idea_ of it. They kept the rations of the drug small for a reason, and she agreed that such a thing could be dangerously weaponized if it fell into the wrong hands. But mainly, she didn’t want to use it as a crutch. She had learned to live with her mutation, in all its flaws and benefits, and if she started fantasizing about an easy out, then she would be undoing years and years of self-acceptance. She didn’t want that, didn’t want to lose something that was ultimately such an important, formative part of her identity.

She did, however, really want to kiss Remy LeBeau on the lips. For real. To taste him in her mouth, not just to use her imagination as they exchanged careful, chaste kisses through a protective piece of fabric. She wanted to know what it felt like to have his calloused hands on her bare skin. They had managed to do quite a lot with each other with the protection of clothes (and condoms), but their movements were always restricted by invisible chains, the need to stay focused so that not even the slightest slip-up occurred. What would it be like, Rogue wondered, when they finally got the chance to be fully unchained?

That thought jolted through her brain when she heard a knock on the door. Rogue stared at the door for a moment before she leaped into action, crossing the room in her green slippers to yank it open. She probably should have been more careful—there was always the chance that the person standing on the other side of the threshold could be someone like Bobby with a terrible sense of timing.

Much to her relief, however, her guest was the expected one. Rogue’s gaze roved up Gambit’s body, and she couldn’t feel ashamed at the way her breath caught in the throat at the sight of his passion-filled red eyes fixed right on her. Her own irrational layer of insecurity took a backseat as she admired his appearance. He wore a tight-fitting dark plum T-shirt that flattened against his chest and showed off the bulk of his biceps where they poked out from the sleeves. A pair of dark-wash jeans hung low on his hips, half-heartedly held up by a dark leather belt. There was nothing about his outfit that Rogue didn’t want to tear off and leave in tatters on the floor.

“Good evening, _belle,”_ Remy whispered, and he seemed to move forward as if being pulled by a magnet. Out of habit, Rogue took a few steps back to keep some amount of safe distance between them, but she glanced up at his face again. The lust she felt was mirrored in his eyes, and she felt her knees grow weak as she was pinned by his gaze. Remy shut the door behind him and locked it firmly, and the way he approached her was much like a predator stalking its prey.

She inhaled deeply and gave a crooked smile. _She was about to jump._ “Good evenin’ yerself, Cajun. No trench coat today?” she teased, trying to maintain some upper hand, even though she wanted nothing more than to cave to the desire that bound them with a taut knot.

“One less t’ing to take off,” he said dismissively, moving into her personal orbit so close enough that her breasts were already nearly touching his chest. “You look _magnifique,_ Rogue,” he murmured, lifting his bare hand up carefully toward her face.

Rogue took a deep breath. _Jump._ “Thank you, Gambit,” she whispered, raising her hand up to meet his. She didn’t think she could be blamed for the way her fingers trembled slightly as they approached Remy’s, and even though there was no reason to believe this wouldn’t work, Rogue internally braced herself for the usual rush of energy and thoughts when her fingertips lightly connected with his. 

There was only gentle warmth. 

She didn’t realize how heavily she was breathing as they pressed their hands together more, until their very palms were touching. Rogue’s fascinated gaze shifted from their joined hands up to Remy’s face, and once again she found herself breathless at the way he looked at her, somehow both tender and needy. He wrapped his fingers down around her hand and squeezed it tightly, his lips curling into a smile. “How you feelin’, _chere?”_

Her eyes were darting between their clutched hands and his enchanting smile, and all Rogue could blurt in that moment was, “It works.” _You’re as smooth as melted butter, Rogue,_ she thought bitterly, wishing that just once she had the kind of charismatic wit that Remy oozed with.

Remy didn’t seem too bothered, laughing softly as he reached up with his other hand to gently take her chin and tilt her head up toward his face. “I love touching you already,” he purred before closing the small gap between their mouths. Rogue’s mind stalled only for a second before she felt his lips on hers. What she had once conditioned herself to be _wrong,_ to kiss another pair of lips knowing what fatal drain they could cause, she now found herself swooning over. And a mighty hunger rose up inside her, and Rogue swept her other hand up to pull Remy’s head closer as she parted her lips to take this kiss to the next level.

Remy gave a grunt as suddenly their tongues were intertwined, and the sensation nearly knocked the Mississippi girl off her feet. It had been _years_ since she’d had a kiss like this, and to share it with the man she’d grudgingly (yet inevitably) fallen in love with felt like a miracle. She offered a moan of her own, one that started out high-pitched and wanton and turned into a kind of feral growl from the back of her throat as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and let the passion carry her to new heights.

Suddenly she felt him picking her up, and she automatically leaned closer against his firm figure for protection, forgetting briefly that the man with perfect balance wasn’t about to drop her anytime soon. Her long legs wrapped securely around his waist, but Rogue wasn’t leaving his mouth for a minute. With both her hands now free, she slid them up to his face, marveling at both the warmth of his cheeks and the slightly rough feeling of his facial scruff tingling against her palms. It was hitting her just how much of touch she had to make up for, and she was all too eager to begin.

Remy placed her on the bed, more gently than she would have given him credit for, and followed after her by the connection of their lips. She couldn’t get enough of his taste, and it seemed he felt the same way. Eventually they were going to need to breathe, but Rogue hated that necessity with every fiber of her being in that moment. For his part, her darling swamp rat wasn’t giving her a chance to dislike any part of this, his hand already sliding down her muscular thigh and giving it a squeeze. God, being touched felt fantastic.

But this wasn’t just about her being touched, though she was sure Remy was excited to finally feel the skin he’d been denied for so long. It was about her having the agency to touch _back,_ and so she moved her hands down to that tight shirt and started to pull it up to expose his chest. She mentally cursed her lack of strength that went with this temporary depowerment. It was an awfully small, insignificant price to pay for what she was getting, but it would have come in handy for getting this godforsaken article of clothing off of Remy’s body. 

Any concern that Remy was going to make this more difficult for her (just _because)_ was erased when he drew back to help yank off the shirt, exposing the taut muscles beneath tanned skin that moved in a fascinating way yet always stayed firm. This was hardly the first time Rogue had seen him shirtless (he was always willing to show off), but she felt she could appreciate the familiar set of abs and light scars more now that she could run her bare fingers along the contours of his body. She swallowed back the sound she almost made (it was too early to be rewarding Remy with _that)_ as she felt the heat of his skin press back against her palms, fueling the arousal already pooling in her gut. 

Remy’s chest heaved the more she touched him, and she felt his chest expand as he breathed, “Like what you touchin’ dere, _chere?”_

She attempted to scoff, tossing him a half-hearted glare. “Yeah, and you’re ruinin’ it by talkin’, swamp rat.”

He let out a laugh and cupped both his hands against her face again. Rogue lifted her head up willingly to take another blazing kiss, her mind trying to track all the sensations at once as she kept her hands on his chest and drowned in his lips. Her hands smoothed down his torso and back up, while one of Remy’s hands slid down to sneak under her babydoll and caress her hip. Rogue didn’t stop him, enjoying the way his fingers danced up her bare skin to softly squeeze the underside of her breast. The tingling in her body caused her to grip his shoulders tightly and pull away from the kiss long enough to pant, “I can’t stand this, Remy. I need you _now.”_

She’d never get tired of the pure fire that she could coax from those devilish red eyes, that one look that assured her that he’d stop toying with her and give her what she wanted. “You know dat’s all I want to hear, _chere.”_ He pulled his hand out to fist it in the fabric of the lingerie, tugging at it as insistently as she had pulled at his shirt, and she obediently (but slightly impatiently) held her arms up so he could drag the whole thing over her head. Tossing it aside, Remy captured her lips yet again while one hand immediately went to her breast, massaging the sizable globe as he guided her backward onto the bed.

She grasped his arm as she pulled him on top of her, sliding her hand up to appreciate the muscles in his bicep, but mostly wanting to keep him exactly where he was. Their bodies moved together, skin pressed tightly against skin, as both of them touched and squeezed and caressed every inch that they could reach. Of course, Rogue’s impatience led her to dig her fingers into the hem of his pants, trying to ignore the distraction Remy was providing by attaching his mouth to one of her nipples. Yes, the warmth of his lips and tongue teasing that sensitive nub was very enjoyable, but she wasn’t sure he understood just how badly she needed his pants to come off _now._

Her frustration grew to the point where she actually pushed him by the shoulders, rolling their bodies so she was on top. Remy let loose an incoherent growl, his eyes glancing up at her in approval. Rogue tossed her two-toned mane of hair back, away from her face so she could focus on unbuckling that belt and yanking it out of the loops. There was a very visible bulge showing in those jeans, and Rogue couldn’t stop her own smirk from snaking across her lips as she carefully unzipped his pants and dragged them down. However, she did snort slightly as his erection popped out immediately.

“Shoulda guessed you’d skip the underwear,” she said dryly, though she was hardly complaining as she was successful in pulling the last bit of clothing away from his body. 

“’Course. It only gets in de way,” he said cheekily. As if to prove his point, he sat up and reached for her own underwear, slipping his fingers under the hem and pushing them down her long legs. She smiled, watching his expression change as her body was exposed to him once and for all. There was appreciation, almost wonder, in those eyes, and she couldn’t help but feel like a queen because of it.

But she wanted to touch first, and so she did, wrapping her fingers around his cock and giving several quick pumps that had him groaning softly as he lay back down on the bed. This felt so much better and more natural than giving a handjob with gloves on, and she could really appreciate just how hot he felt. As much as she ached to feel what that was like inside of her, she couldn’t neglect safety now—especially since her only method of birth control had been deactivated for the night. “Get that condom there,” she breathed, pointing to one that she had set aside on the nightstand. “And hurry up about it, I wanna stick it in me.” For emphasis, her hand glided along his cock even faster, causing Remy to breathe heavier while he fumbled for the condom.

“Anyone ever tell you,” he panted, tearing open the package, “dat you’re a real romantic, _mi amor?”_

“Save it, Cajun,” she bit out, not about to be taunted for her lack of tact when they were about to _fuck_ for the first time. Well, not exactly the first time, but the first _real_ time. As nice as it was to think that they could cuddle in bed all day and gently touch every part of each other’s bodies, they didn’t really have that luxury. Rogue wasn’t about to miss out on the experience, though she’d be more than happy to curl up in Remy’s arms once they were done. 

Remy succeeded in bringing out the condom and sat up again. Rogue pulled her hand away somewhat reluctantly so he could cover himself, and once he was done that, he shifted out from under her and gently pushed her back onto the bed again. “Much as I love looking at you, _belle,”_ he murmured, “dere’s just so much I want to touch.” He gently pushed her knees apart and moved toward her, while his lips fell down on her neck, tongue flicking at the sensitive area there.

Rogue hissed slightly, craning her neck back to give him more space to drive her crazy. A moment later, her heart quickened as she felt his hardness press against her entrance. But Remy being Remy, he teased her a little by rubbing against her swollen clit, making her squirm and grow even wetter. “Dammit, Remy,” she cursed. “Just for once would ya—ahh!”

The wild sound of pleasure shot out from her as Remy surged into her body, giving her exactly what she was craving. She dug her painted nails into the bed, reveling in the sensation of being _filled_ in the best way. Remy felt amazing inside of her, and more than that, he felt _right._ She struggled to breathe normally as she looked up at him—his face was right above hers, red eyes meshing with green as both of them seemed to realize the exact same thing at the exact same moment.

And then he began moving, hips rocking against hers, and she lost the battle of keeping her moans in, lost the desire to even _make_ it a battle. She took every excuse and opportunity to touch him, squeezing every hard muscle she could reach and kissing his face and neck when he gave her a chance. He did the same, all but burying his face in the valley of her breasts while his fingers stroked and tugged at her nipples. All the while, his pace never faltered, only increasing as time went on. Rogue locked her legs behind him, making herself as open as she could, and whispered encouragingly whenever he hit a spot that _really_ made her hair stand on end. 

On top of it all, there was just the feeling of being _free,_ not having to resist the urge to bury her hands in Remy’s shoulder-length hair and run her hands across the top of his back; not having to freeze up as Remy plastered kisses all over her face; not having to be concerned about how her legs brushed up against his skin. That marvelous weight lifted from her mind allowed her to feel the pleasures of his actions tenfold, and she didn’t think she could be ashamed of the way her body began to tighten after only a few minutes of fierce lovemaking.

“Remy, I’m gettin’ close,” she ground out with effort. “I think I’m gonna—” Her ability to get out even those few words was nothing short of miraculous, as Remy took his thrusting to the next level while he grunted and murmured indecipherable noises that sounded vaguely French. “Anna,” was all she heard him say before she went deaf, blind, and numb to everything else but the way her body lit up like a match, every nerve on fire. And it wouldn’t stop, only continued to buck through her with a kick like a stallion. 

Even as it started to fade, she found herself clinging to Remy with all her strength (which felt weakened by the peak she had just reached), hearing him groan her birth-name into her ear as he pushed into her one last time. She enjoyed the look on his face as he climaxed, but she didn’t admire it for long before she was, once again, pressing her lips to his face and neck. 

Eventually, they sagged beside one another, their bodies separated but their hearts and minds still tightly interlocked in the moment. Rogue lifted her eyes from Remy’s heaving, sweaty torso to his face, gently running her fingers against his jaw and giving him a smile. For all their usual bickering, she felt that saying nothing spoke volumes in this moment. They didn’t need to say anything about what had just transpired. It was deeply special, marvelously satisfying, and (Rogue hoped) the start of a new stage in their lives. This couldn’t happen all the time (she still wouldn’t trust a drug to be an easy answer), but they knew it was possible now. They knew what it felt like. 

And that only cemented her belief that, against all odds, they were meant to end up here, together. 


End file.
